Dark
ashes
fall
like dust
from the sky,
questions
unanswered,
once again, fly;
take their wings,
and echo back
across the canyons.
Fugitives run,
scatter at dawn’s break,
making for lower ground;
they hide in brambles,
until the orange sun
sets its course down to the west.
Now their journey begins
On paths they long remember,
they scramble back into the dark;
when they catch glimpses, they run,
faster, faster into the night,
seek salvation from their sins,
their race destined to never end.
Are they gangsters, are they criminals,
are they predators waiting for the young?
Are they unrepentant monsters, thieves
stealing from the children their innocence?
They pursue until they capture everyone,
yet their ashes still lie dried in the sun.
“Syllabic Poetry — the Culminating 30”
Thank you for taking the time to read! I sincerely appreciate your support.
Copyright © 2025, Robert G. Metivier. All Rights Reserved.
If you like my work, please Buy Me a Coffee
My mind is swimming in these words.. as I read, the words take me farther away from a reality once lived and placed me into the unknown. Dark ashes all around.